Dorothy Garlock - [Wabash River] (41 page)

“It means she likes you. She’s . . . fascinated, bewitched.”

“Oh, I’m glad. I told her I thought she was pretty.”

The sun filtered down through the tall trees as they walked alongside the creek looking for a suitable place to bathe and wash their clothes. Amy strode ahead, her rifle in her hand. They came to a place where a long, flat rock protruded out into the stream.

“This looks like a good place.” Amy leaned her rifle against a tree trunk and threw her soiled clothes down on the rock.

Eleanor sat on the rock and took off her shoes and stockings. She stretched her legs out in front of her, wiggled her toes, then plunged her feet into the water.

“Oh, that feels good! Take off your shoes, Amy.”

In the silence that followed her words, Amy thought she heard a noise. She turned and looked back toward the way they had come. Nothing seemed to he stirring. They were screened from the settlement by thick willows. When the sound of a horse’s nickering reached her she relaxed, chiding herself for being jumpy, and sat down beside Eleanor. Yet the unease stayed with her.

The stone was hot. Amy could feel the heat through her buckskin britches. She dangled her feet in the cool water and the tension left her. They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the sun on their backs and the cool water flowing over their feet. Then Eleanor splashed the water playfully. Drops of cool water hit Amy’s face. She gasped.

“You little imp! I’ll get you—” Her words became lost in an incredible, horrifying instant that she was to remember for the rest of her life.

A heavy blanket was thrown over her head and arms like steel bands wrapped around her. Amy was caught completely unaware and lunged back against her assailant. They toppled from the rock. She fell with a heavy body on top of her. Breath left her. The cloying closeness of the blanket over her head filled her with terror. In the seconds before she was rapped sharply on the head with a blunt instrument and propelled into a swirling black void, she heard Eleanor’s terrified scream and a man’s voice above her spitting out a curse.

Then he said, “Goddamn it, Hull. Knock the bitch out like I told you. It’ll save time and trouble.”

*   *   *

Rain and Gavin rode single file down the game trail, through a maze of boulders that had fallen from a cliff, around a bulging rock, and into a scattering of trees. Ahead they could see a sweep of open country, a meadow reaching to lose itself in the foothills beyond.

Rain dropped back so he could ride beside Gavin.

“Is the going too rough? I don’t want that hole in your side to break open. Eleanor would have my scalp.”

“No danger a that, mon,” Gavin grumbled. “I be wrapped so tight in them blasted strips I canna take a decent breath.”

Rain laughed. “This is only the beginning. They say a bossy woman gets worse as the years go by.”

The track crossed the meadow and went along the edge of the forest. It was a still, warm day. Fluffy white clouds hung lazily in the blue sky. Rain’s blue-black eyes, ever alert, studied the area, looked all around and saw nothing unusual.

Sometime later, when they were a little more than a couple of hours from Davidsonville, his keen ears caught a foreign sound. They were in a pass between two wooded hills not far from the fork of the river and Preacher Witsel’s place. The big dun’s ears peaked and Rain signaled to Gavin to stop.

When Rain lifted his rifle from the scabbard, Gavin did the same. They sat quietly for the space of a dozen heartbeats before Rain turned his mount into the trees. Gavin followed closely behind, the cushion of dead leaves muffling the sound of the horses’ hooves.

“Horses coming up the trail. Six or eight of them,” Rain whispered. “We’ll wait here and let them pass.”

They dismounted, Rain to move back toward the trail and Gavin to stand at the heads of the horses. Now he could hear the sound of the hoofbeats and even the creaking of saddle leather. They weren’t Indians, he reasoned. Indians didn’t use saddles or shod horses. Gavin tied the horses to a tree branch and leaned his rifle against its trunk. He had to have both hands free to clamp over the mouths of their mounts lest they nicker a greeting to the animals coming up the trail.

Rain peered through the foliage, his eyes on the peak where the riders would come over the rise. All his senses were in tune—his sight, his hearing, his ability to smell danger—all were focused on what was coming toward them.

When the riders appeared, coming in single file, the stiffness went out of Rain’s shoulders and a grin spread over his firm lips.

“My God! Will Bradford!” Rain dropped the butt of his rifle to the ground. From his lips came the song of the brown thrush, loud and clear and melodious. He gave a sharp whistle, then the thrush song again.

The man leading the detail of six men signaled a halt. The sergeant behind him moved up.

“What is it, sir?”

At that moment Rain stepped out of the woods and stood in the trail. “Will! Will Bradford!” he called. “I was hoping you’d remember that signal and not shoot me.”

“Rain? By all that’s holy! Rain Tallman.” Will Bradford was a portly man in his mid-forties, clean shaven and heavily jowled. He was the most honorable man Rain had ever known except for his stepfather and Farr Quill. He was off the horse by the time Rain reached him and pumped his hand vigorously.

“You were the last person I expected to see coming up that trail. I got your letter and figured you had your hands full at Belle Point.” Rain’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Gavin,” he called. “Come on out and meet Will Bradford.”

Gavin moved out of the woods leading the two horses. He came on slowly, but his thoughts were racing ahead. What did the appearance of Will Bradford mean? Had he changed his mind about taking Eleanor to Belle Point? Gavin sensed the dream of having her as his wife fading away.

“Will, this is Gavin McCourtney,” Rain said. “He came with me from Louisville. Gavin, you’ve heard much about Will Bradford these last few weeks.”

“I ken that I have. Tis an honor, sir.” Gavin extended his hand.”

“A Scot,” Will said and shook Gavin’s hand. “Some of the best soldiers I ever had were Scots.”

“I be glad to hear it, sir.”

“Where are you headed, Rain? You can’t already have settled Miss Woodbury and her aunt in Saint Genevieve?”

“No. Miss Woodbury is at Davidsonville, Will. Her aunt passed on before we left Louisville.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Poor child. She’s more alone than ever. I’ve been called to a conference in Belle Fontaine. It would be too rigorous a journey for her to travel with us. I’m afraid I’m going to have to impose on you to escort her, as I suggested in the letter.”

“A lot of things have happened, Will. Important things that you need to know. Have you taken your mid-morning rest?”

“No. We can stop here for a while.”

Rain and Will Bradford sat on a deadfall apart from the men who, after picketing their horses, lounged on the grass. Rain explained as concisely as possible all that had happened. He told him about Hammond Perry sending the boy, Mike Hartman, to kill him. He told about the attack at Kaskaskia and the one later when Bull admitted Perry wanted Miss Woodbury.

“The man’s holding a grudge, Will. He’s not going to forget you were given the assignment he wanted at Belle Point.”

“My God, Rain. There are times when I wish he’d gotten it.”

“Now, about Miss Woodbury. My intended, Mrs. Amy Deverell, is with her at Davidsonville. Under different circumstances I would leave the telling of this to Miss Woodbury. But the truth of the matter is she has fallen in love with Gavin McCourtney and he with her. They wish to be married.”

“By Jove!” Will turned a smiling face to Rain. “That’s good news. You think McCourtney is a good man?”

“The best. He’s lived a rough life as a riverman, but he’s honest and steady. He loves her and will protect her with his life. He fought for her against great odds at Kaskaskia and saved her from rape and possible death.”

“That’s good enough for me. I have to admit that having her settled is a load off my mind.” Will wiped his forehead with the cloth he took from around his neck.

“Miss Woodbury was going to leave a letter for you at Davidsonville. She’s a different woman now from the young lady Gavin and I met in Louisville. She was so spoiled, Will, I was tempted to take a hairbrush to her backside. Gavin did it, and you’d be surprised at the results.”

“Straightened her out, did it?” Will chuckled. “I wonder if that would work on some of my enlisted men?”

“Gavin and I were on our way to the Witsel place. We thought to have the preacher return with us to Davidsonville. You’ll be able to give her in marriage, Will.”

“Preacher Witsel?” Will frowned and shook his head. “We stopped at his place this morning. He was drowned in the flood last week.”

“Drowned? That’s too bad. Then there’s no need to go on. We’ll ride back to Davidsonville with you.”

“If you’re bound to be wed, Rain, I’ll be glad to officiate at the ceremony. I have the authority in Arkansas Territory.”

“I’d forgotten about that! The women will be plumb tickled.” Rain’s face creased with one of his rare broad smiles. “Gavin,” he called. “I’ve got good news,” he said when Gavin reached them. “I’ve explained the situation to Will and you can stop worrying. Will is pleased about you and Eleanor.”

Will could almost see the big Scot’s shoulders slump in relief. He stood and held out his hand.

“Rain says you’re a good man. I’m pleased to welcome you to the family. If there is anything I can do to help you and Eleanor get a start, I’m more than willing to do it.”

“I . . . er . . . well, I do be thankin’ ye.” Gavin was so dumbfounded he didn’t know what to say. This man, an important major, was offering friendship to
him.
For an instant it boggled his mind. Then his face creased in smiles and he shook the major’s hand heartily.

*   *

Pete Hopcus had arrived at the pass a good half hour before Rain and Gavin. He was not bragging when he told Antoine he knew the country. He used a little-known deer trail to come across and reach this place. He shimmied up a tree and settled himself comfortably on a broad branch to wait. He had a clear view of the track, and his two rifles were primed and ready. When the two men came in sight he raised one gun and sighted the chest of the man on the dun horse.

Pete waited, his finger on the trigger, for his prey to come closer. He dared not miss the first shot. Suddenly the pair of riders stopped and Tallman jerked his head toward the woods. Almost before Pete could lower the rifle they had disappeared into the dense growth.

Tallman knew he was there! The thought sent a ripple of fear down Pete’s spine. But how could he have known? Pete wondered. He looked over his shoulder to be sure his horse had not gotten loose and wandered onto the trail, alerting the man. A minute later he heard the riders coming from the south. So that was it? Tallman had heard them and left the trail to let them pass.

Pete relaxed. As soon as the riders passed he would have his chance to knock the famed woodsman out of the saddle, slice off his ear and collect his reward. Maybe he would go to Memphis or New Orleans. He wanted to get as far away from Antoine Efant as he could. The way the Frenchman was acting he could kill him like he had killed the kid that came in leading the pilgrim’s horse.

The soldiers rode over the hill in single file. At their head was an officer, either a captain or a major, Pete was not sure which. They passed not thirty feet from the tree where Pete was perched and went on down the narrow path. Pete was wondering if he dared shoot Tallman there. The patrol was bound to hear the shots. Damn! He would have to wait until Tallman returned this way with the preacher, which meant he would have to kill the preacher too.

While Pete was trying to decide how he was going to accomplish this deed, the column of soldiers stopped and Rain Tallman walked out of the woods. He called a greeting to the officer. The officer got off his horse and the two shook hands. Then, to further irritate Pete, the soldiers dismounted, picketed their horses, broke out canteens and lolled on the grass. Tallman and the officer sat down on a deadfall.

When the men mounted their horses again, Pete breathed a sigh of relief. His sigh turned into a painful gasp when Rain and the officer, riding side by side, rode out toward Davidsonville. It took Pete several minutes to realize what this turn of events meant to him. Tallman was going back to the trading post. Pete couldn’t shoot him while he was riding with the soldiers. They would be on him in a flash, and his life wouldn’t be worth a snap of his fingers. On the other hand, Efant would kill him if Pete went back to his homestead and told him Tallman still lived.

Pete began to shake. In the space of half an hour everything he had dreamed of having had been snatched from him. He had to get away, far away. He had to leave his homestead and the two years of work he had put into the place. None of that mattered now. What was a homestead compared to his life?

As soon as it was safe to leave the tree, Pete shimmied down. He found his horse where he had left him, mounted and headed south toward the Arkansas River. If he were lucky he could trade one of the rifles for a ride downriver to the Mississippi. There he would work his way to New Orleans and a ship that would take him to some foreign land.

Pete prayed to God that he never came face to face with Antoine Efant again.

Twenty-two

The blood pounding in Eleanor’s throbbing head made her gag. Slowly she became aware of the jolting gait of the horse and realized that she had been thrown across its back. Her hands were bound and the thongs cut into her soft flesh when she tried to move. She opened her eyes and tried to focus them on the ground as it passed. Suddenly her stomach rebelled and vomit spewed out and over her hands dangling beneath her face. A violent pain struck between her eyes and she slipped back into the blissful state of unconsciousness.

When Eleanor came to again she found herself lying on the ground on her side, her back against the trunk of a tree. The smell of vomit on her clothes and her hands almost made her sick again. She forced herself to lie very still, and lifted her lashes so she could peek at her captors.